


Rabbit Heart

by Sagnfreidi



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, BAMF Arthur, Blackmail, Coercion, Corruption, Different beginning to the movie, First Meetings, Gen, Mentions of Cobb, Mentions of Saito, Short, Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 17:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20979428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagnfreidi/pseuds/Sagnfreidi
Summary: Eames is caught in a dystopian country, on trial for crimes he actually comitted. He's facing the death penalty unless a miracle occurs. But then a handsome stranger shows up, and he might just be able to deliver.





	Rabbit Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this prompt: sstrangeprompts.tumblr.com/post/186386855789/due-to-the-horrible-crimes-you-have-committed 
> 
> I'm probably not going to come back and re-write the whole movie in-verse. But if anybody feels inspired to write scenes or continuations, then feel free and link me so I can read!

_This is a gift, it comes with a price_

_Who is the lamb and who is the knife?_

_Midas is king and he holds me so tight_

_And turns me to gold in the sunlight_

Florence + the Machine: Rabbit Heart (Raise it up)

Eames had pleaded innocent, because if he didn’t it would have been straight to the sentencing, and for this shite? That was the death penalty. And while no one would claim court proceedings were any fun, especially not in this hellhole of a country, every day of the trial was another day he was alive to be bored to tears.

Eames didn’t feel particularly guilty for what he’d done. Sure, some of it was pretty horrifying, but it wasn’t like he’d been killing nuns or hurting children. He’d just tried to make a living the only way he knew how under this reign of terror, and if it wasn’t exactly legal, well, the law was bollocks anyway.

He leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, ignoring the droning voice of the prosecution as he instead studied the judge. At first glance he looked rather formidable: a lone figure on his throne, draped in dark robes. But looking closer, he was just a thin, old man with a tired mouth and cruel eyes. Eames couldn’t even fathom what it took to sit there, elevated in this marble throne room and uphold the farce of serving justice. Eames might not be innocent, but then there was no real way to be so: either you broke the law, or you became the villain.

They were reaching the end of the proceedings now – Eames’ grace period was almost over. There was no doubt he’d be found guilty. The evidence was overwhelming, and he didn’t have enough favours left to get out of this one. _Well_, he thought, _it’s been a good run_.

And then the monotony of the trial was broken when a young man walked up to the rail separating the public from the proceedings and gestured for his defence attorney to come over. Eames couldn’t get a good look at him, since his attorney was in the way. They had a brief but fierce conversation. And then things really got spiced up.

“Your honour. We would like an extension as new evidence has come up.” His attorney said. The judge narrowed those cruel eyes.

“Is this evidence substantial? I will not allow this trial to drag out indefinitely.”

“It proves that Mr. Eames could not have done what he has been accused of.” The stranger man spoke up. A murmur rose in the court room, but Eames ignored that, choosing instead to turn to look at the man.

He was young, younger probably than Eames, and immaculately turned out in a bespoke suit and with his dark hair slicked back. He was rather handsome. The man noticed Eames looking and, so quickly Eames had to wonder if he’d imagined it, he winked at Eames.

Everything about this was puzzling.

First of all because Eames had most definitely done what he’d been accused of, so how anybody could hope to prove that he couldn’t have, he didn’t know.

Second of, and perhaps more interestingly, Eames had never seen this handsome young man before. Eames felt sure that he’d have remembered, because he couldn’t imagine that someone who had the audacity of walking in on a criminal proceeding in its closing stages with fake evidence and then winking at the accused right in front of the judge was the type of person that was easily forgotten.

The judge apparently was puzzled too, or at least curious enough to grant the extension while the new evidence was reviewed. Eames wasn’t given a chance to talk to his saving devil before he was taken away by the court guards. And then he was shipped back to the Feuland County holding facility to be alone with his questions.

* * *

“In case nr. 204-6947-3c, the state vs Charles Eames, the Court finds the accused not guilty on all counts. This court is adjourned.” The wizened old judge said, and Eames sat there staring uncomprehendingly at him for a long moment. He was vaguely aware of the prosecutor slamming his papers into his bag in obvious frustration and leaving in a huff as well as his own defense attorney turning towards him, but nothing really registered. Just a few days ago, his guilty sentence had seemed a foregone conclusion. He’d thought for sure that he was going to die.

He’d almost died.

He was in a daze as he signed some papers, and then he was handed back a bag with his own clothes and shown to the bathroom to change.

What the hell had just happened? Who was that person, the one who came out of nowhere and got him freed? And what did he want in return?

His attorney was waiting for him as he came back out.

“Congratulations, Mr. Eames.” His attorney said stiffly.

“Pardon?” He asked, still deep in thought. His attorney managed a weak smile. He’d never been the most enthusiastic defender, but then there hadn’t been much worth fighting over in this case.

“You’re a free man. For a certain value of free, at any rate. Well, anyway. I’m off. Don’t take it the wrong way, but I hope I won’t see you again.” He said, and Eames nodded silently. There was no good way to answer that anyway. Eames watched him walk away, not really wanting to spend any more time with him, even if they were going the same way, so he waited until he was gone. He checked his wallet. He didn’t have much on him, but it would probably be enough to get himself out of the city. If he was allowed to leave, that was.

He made it as far as the steps outside of the courthouse before he was stopped.

“Mr. Eames.” He recognized the voice with surprising ease, considering that he’d only heard it once before. Eames turned to look at the young man who was coming towards him. He looked even better out here in the sunshine.

“Ah. My mystery benefactor.” Eames said. The man snorted.

“Not likely. I’m just the messenger in this case.” He had an American accent, which was vaguely interesting.

“Ah, but what a messenger you make.” Eames said with a leer. The man seemed entirely unimpressed, which in itself was impressive. Whether the subjects of Eames’ leers were straight or gay or something in between, he was usually able to get them at least a little hot around the ears, if not other places.

“I have a car this way.” The man nodded down the street.

“And so forward! I don’t even know your name.” Eames said lightly. The man rolled his eyes.

“It’s Arthur.”

“Arthur. What a lovely name.” Eames was trying to buy himself time, no two ways about it. Don’t get him wrong, he was more than happy not to be heading to the gallows, but he was also wary of what the price for that bit of mercy might be.

“Follow me, Mr. Eames.”

“I don’t usually put out on the first date.” Eames said. Arthur turned to look at him.

“It’s not going to be as bad as all that.” He said directly.

“Yeah? You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it, Arthur.” Eames forwent the levity as well. Arthur regarded him for a moment, clearly gauging what the best thing to say was.

“This way.” Was what he settled on, clearly realizing that Eames wasn’t going to be placated by a bit of smooth talking. Eames looked around. It was a nice, sunny day, but the street was mostly empty as it was the middle of a work day. He followed Arthur.

Arthur’s car was nice, a black Mercedes a; bit pretentious maybe. But then the man did wear bespoke suits, so Eames wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Arthur allowed him to get into the front passenger seat while he himself drove.

“And where might we be headed?” Eames asked.

“It’s about an hour away.” Arthur said, heading north.

“Any chance you want to tell me what this is all about?” Arthur shot him a look.

“Ever heard of Mr. Saito?” He pronounced the name oddly, _Say-to_, but it was recognizable all the same.

“Ah. Of course. Tell me, is he still chasing inception?” Eames drummed his fingers against his thigh.

“How do you know?”

“Isn’t everyone, in this country? Anyway, I’ve said no to him before.” Eames shrugged with feigned nonchalance.

“Well this time you’re going to say yes.” Arthur said matter-of-factly.

“What’s stopping me from just walking out? I’m a free man, after all.”

“You know what they say about evidence: easy come, easy go.” Arthur said, too evenly. Eames huffed.

“I’m fairly sure that’s not what they say about evidence.” Eames argued.

“It is in this country.” Arthur fired back. And Eames could hardly argue against that.

“So what’s he got on you?” Arthur made a face.

“Blackmail. And a promise of doing what he did for you for my partner.” He said frankly.

“Partner?” Eames asked.

“In business. Dom Cobb.”

Eames nodded slowly. He’d heard of Cobb at least. He’d also heard that the man had gotten himself in a tangle over state side. Something to do with his wife.

“And where do you fit into all of this?” Eames asked rather than asking about what crimes Cobb might be charged with. It hardly mattered anyway.

“I’m running point.” Arthur said. Eames raised an eyebrow. There weren’t many people in the business Eames didn’t know, even if namedropping Cobb had done something to add credence to what he was saying. Arthur returned his glance with a challenging look of his own.

“So. Inception.” Eames said, tiredness settling into his bones.

“That’s the plan.” Arthur agreed, a note of mocking in his voice.

“God help us all.” Arthur made a sound that was probably agreement. They made the rest of the drive in companionable silence. _Well_, Eames thought, looking at the handsome man driving the car. _If this is my sentence, then at least I’m in good company._


End file.
